


sealed with a kiss and a wedding ring

by inamamagic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathing, Domestic Bliss, F/F, HP Femslash MiniFest, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pre-War, Rememberall, flashbacks to age difference, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamamagic/pseuds/inamamagic
Summary: Sleepy summer nights with Rolanda are what Rosemerta lives for
Relationships: Rolanda Hooch/Madam Rosmerta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Marriage Law - Domestic Bliss - Rememberall -March/April 2020





	sealed with a kiss and a wedding ring

The way Rolanda still took her breath away was nothing short of magical.

Rosemerta found her lounging on their bed late in the drowsy summer evening, tossing a smoke filled Remembrall in one hand with a frown on her face. Rosemerta’s followed the pendulum-steady toss and catch, but Rolanda’s gaze was fixed somewhere in the depths of the little fireplace.

The smoke turned red. Rolanda’s frown deepened.

“Need help?” Rosemerta asked.

“It’ll come to me,” Rolanda said, still frowning into the fire.

Rosemerta stepped into the room, wincing when a floorboard creaked ominously under her feet. They had the attic lodgings above the Three Broomsticks, but the inn was in need of renovations that Rosemerta’d been putting off for lack of an assistant. Closing the pub for a day of repairs wasn’t an option, not when her finances hadn’t quite yet caught up to where she was comfortable. It hadn’t been long since she’d climbed out of the debt she’d gotten in to buy the Three Broomsticks in the first place. A deep debt for sure, but a small price to pay to breathe easy. Diagon Alley was too packed and Godric’s Hollow was filled with the type who pretended to have no problem with Muggle heritage but would surreptitiously turn up their noses when she passed.

Hogsmeade was quietest in the summer months, with Hogwarts empty and most choosing to travel for the holidays. Christmastime was when she saw most of her business; the pub was never empty, the inn always spilling over. In summer, with the slow warm days and easy nights, she could relax and take a moment to _be_ with Rolanda by her side.

But it wasn’t _quite_ that quiet just yet. Hogwarts had grown silent as exams descended upon students, turning even the rowdiest of them into meek things scrambling between pages of dusty books, nursing parchment cuts that only revealed themselves in the singing sting of quiet evenings under ink-stained fingertips. Those in the village still came in for a pint or two but Rosemerta missed the students. They gave Hogsmeade life.

She left her robes discarded by the foot of the bed, thinking of drawing herself a bath but smiled to see the large wooden tub already filled with warm water. Gentle swirls of steam rose slowly above the petal-scattered water.

“For me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. Rolanda winked at her and Rosemerta felt the tug in her core as sure as always.

“Thought you might like it,” she said. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Not as long as some,” Rosemerta sighed. “Not as long as it could’ve been.”

“Y’know,” Rolanda said, swinging herself off the bed and walking slowly to Rosemerta, who dipped a hand into the water to check the temperature. “You _could_ start selling your mead in Diagon Alley. Pomona agrees with me - she thinks it’ll be a decent money spinner.”

“And I’ve told you enough times darling, that I don’t have enough of me to go around. I can’t run the place and make enough mead to sell in Diagon.” She tiptoed, trying to balance and climb into the tub, but her hip was freezing up again and she couldn’t manoeuvre. “Help me in won’t you?”

“Hold steady,” Rolanda said, and then she’d swept Rosemerta off her feet quite literally, deposited her in the water with barely a splash, drenching the sleeves of her jumper.

“Your clothes!” Rosemerta shrieked, but Rolanda shot her that wicked grin of hers and pulled her jumper over her head.

“Doesn’t matter now does it?” she said, but Rosemerta’s mind was already elsewhere. Her eyes raked over Rolanda’s torso, still taut in the places that Quidditch had honed to perfection, but soft in the spots that made Rosemerta happiest to touch; the curve of her belly, the flesh underneath her breasts. Rolanda still bore scars from old flying injuries, those she didn’t want to magic away. It was proof of a past life well-lived.

Rosemerta shifted to make room and Rolanda undressed and climbed in, her longer limbs better suited to the lack of a stepladder (Rosemerta had taken it to the cellar and forgotten to bring it back). The water sloshed dangerously close to the edge, but the tub was charmed to stop it overflowing.

Rolanda’s arms wrapped around her and Rosemerta settled back, letting the ends of her hair soak in the water. She ran a finger over Rolanda’s wiry forearm, staring at the contrast between her own deep-brown shade and Rolanda’s pale, freckled skin. She liked letting Rolanda take the reins like this; every day Rosemerta was in charge from the moment she opened her eyes at dawn till she fell into a bone-tired slumber every night. Most days, Rolanda would only do as much as it took to ease her load; cleaning behind the bar if she had time after lessons, sweeping the pub when she didn’t have night duty at Hogwarts, hauling stock up from the cellar in the mornings before heading up to the castle.

But some nights, sweet, honeysuckle nights like this, Rolanda would offer to lift more than the daily workload and Rosemerta would gladly oblige.

The water was scented with a hint of lavender, and Rosemerta felt herself sinking into soft pleasure as Rolanda poured warm water over her hair and massaged her temples. “Is that good?” she murmured, her voice rasping like the wind.

“Little higher,” Rosemerta mumbled, letting Rolanda’s fingers work out the worries of the day, cleansing the troubles from her weary head. Closing her eyes, she sank lower while Rolanda lathered her hair. The shampoo smelled like lavender too, and Rolanda wiped foam away from Rosemerta’s forehead before it dripped into her eyes.

“How was your day?” Rosemerta asked.

“Uneventful, mostly,” Rolanda said. “Had to stop the Potter boy from flying around Gryffindor Tower.” She groaned. “Minerva’s at her wits end about him. Him and Black. They’re going to get into some irreversible trouble sooner or later.”

Rosemerta chuckled. “Like you didn’t leap off the Astronomy Tower onto your broomstick in your sixth year.”

Rolanda’s chuckle rumbled against her back, deep and heavy. “I knew exactly what I was doing,” she said.

“And the James Potter’s an amateur is what you’re saying?”

“He’s got skill, no one can deny that,” Rolanda said. “But he’s only flying to impress Lily Evans. He’s distracted. It’ll land him in the hospital wing if he’s not careful.”

Rosemerta smiled, content to listen to Rolanda’s gruff criticisms. She knew they came from a place of deep concern, concern she shared for all her students, but it was amusing considering her own Hogwarts days. Rosemerta had been a smidge of a first-year then, and Rolanda had been a strapping sixth-year that half the girls were secretly in love with but barely spoke about.

Rosemerta had been just as awed as everyone else, captivated by her shine, eager to be in her presence whenever she passed, the gold and red Quidditch Captain badge gleaming on her chest. Her hair had been longer then, thick and brown down her back in a single braid. She’d come to assist the first-year flying lessons once, and Rosemerta had tripped over the spindly school broom in front of her when Rolanda had looked her way. What could she have done? Rolanda had been the school superstar, one of the youngest professional Quidditch recruits Hogwarts had ever seen. She was better than all the boys and determined to rub it in their faces.

Their paths hadn’t crossed after Rolanda had left Hogwarts; it was Quidditch fame for her with the Wimbourne Wasps. Rosemerta had grown up painfully shy, not venturing past a few friends, but once out of Hogwarts, she was out on her own. Her parents were Muggles and loved her dearly, but Rosemerta’s heart belonged in the Wizarding World. She didn’t come from the sort of wealth that could set her up comfortably to begin life anew. With barely two Galleons to rub together, she’d started working two jobs straight out of Hogwarts, day shifts at Flourish and Blotts and night shifts at the Leaky Cauldron. Bit by bit she’d shed the shyness that had been her shell, bit by bit it had cracked and flaked until she stood tall on her own.

Rolanda had come into her life again almost two decades after leaving it, by which time Rosemerta was already owner of the Three Broomsticks. This wasn’t the Rolanda she’d known at Hogwarts, not the girl who kept her head high and spat in the face of every detractor. This was a woman still broken by the fall of her career, ended prematurely by a vicious dual-Bludger attack. The referee had called a foul on that and Rosemerta had heard it over the wireless at the Leaky, stilling with the rest of the listening patrons, hoping against hope that Rolanda would recover, but there was nothing to be done. Five years with the Wasps and it had been over in a flash.

When she’d served her at the Three Broomsticks, Rosemerta had decided not to mention how she’d idolised Rolanda in her childhood, ask about her new Hogwarts job, or talk about Quidditch at all. She’d set a Firewhiskey in front of her huddled form and gave her a once over.

“I like your hair,” she’d said. Rolanda’s long braid had long since been chopped off, standing in windswept spikes all over her head, steel grey streaks tearing through the brown.

Rolanda had looked at her with no recognition - Rosemerta didn’t expect to be recognised, she’d been a child after all, and now, she was woman in the ways men lusted after and she’d never let touch.

They’d talked till the candles burned down to stubs, and Rolanda had kissed Rosemerta’s fingertips before saying goodnight. Here they were now, countless years after all that. Rosemerta had never wanted to marry somebody so much in her life, and if it was legal to do it, she would’ve married Rolanda in a heartbeat. They’d discussed it intermittently over the years - Rolanda had offered plenty of times to disguise herself as a man and get it over with, but Rosemerta knew that wasn’t what either one of them wanted. Enough people knew about them, plenty more whispered, but for their friends and allies, they were always welcome.

But today… today Rosemerta had heard something truly miraculous.

Most days, she relied on Rolanda’s news updates, only listening if there was something that sounded truly concerning, though there’d been plenty to be concerned about lately. Rosemerta knew plenty of Muggleborns who were beginning to flee to safer parts of the country, some even packing up and going abroad, but her heart was here and she’d never think of leaving. If darkness fell upon Hogsmeade, she’d fight it off herself if she had to.

Rolanda rinsed the suds out of her hair, gentle as can be, careful not to get any in Rosemerta’s eyes.

“They’ve been saying about the Marriage Law,” she said, while Rolanda rubbed the solid square block of soap over her back and shoulders. “Apparently they’ve removed the opposite sex clause.”

There was silence from her partner, which wasn’t wholly uncharacteristic. Rolanda might’ve been boisterous in her youth, but she was prone to longer silences now, especially when focused on a task. Rosemerta allowed her strong hands to press into her shoulders, working out the knots and strains. Sighing in pleasure, she shivered a little as water washed over her back again.

“That feels nice,” she mumbled.

“Heard about the law being changed,” Rolanda said quietly. Rosemerta hummed, happy to be acknowledged, not necessarily wanting an answer. There was no real rush now, they could plan something when she wasn’t so sleepy perhaps.

Rolanda got out of the tub but Rosemerta barely felt her. She sunk in, happy, warm, and at peace, safe with her partner in the home they shared. The fire crackled away, making Rosemerta think of Malcom’s Mysterious Marshmallows and the lovely floating feeling they gave her whenever she indulged in one.

When Rolanda returned and knelt by the edge of the tub, Rosemerta cracked open a sleepy eye to see a silver necklace hanging between Rolanda’s fingers. There was a pendant hanging from it; two doves in an embrace.

“That’s pretty,” she murmured with a smile, eyes closing again.

“Marry me,” Rolanda said. Rosemerta opened her eyes a little wider, taking in Rolanda’s reddened cheeks, the towel over her broad shoulders, and her hopeful eyes. Her heart soared, even as her body sank deeper into a pleasant stupor.

“Of course,” she said. “When did you get that made?”

“Two weeks ago,” Rolanda said, and Rosemerta moved her head to give her space to put on the necklace for her. “They’ve been talking about the Marriage Law up at the castle for a while now. Dumbledore was confident it would change, so I had this done.”

“Thank you my love,” Rosemerta said with a yawn, eyes fluttering shut again as she touched the pendant. The silver wings fluttered underneath her fingertips. Rolanda chuckled, a deep, hearty sound.

“This’ll be a story to tell the rest,” she said, standing up with a creaking of floorboards. “How my wife fell asleep in the bath after being proposed to.”

“Mmmm,” Rosemerta smiled. “I’ll be your wife.”

“You already are, even without a legal marriage,” Rolanda said. Rosemerta let herself be lifted out of the tub, dried off and dressed and carried to bed. Rolanda climbed in next to her and the Remembrall rolled over the quilt, but she caught it before it hit the ground.

“Did you remember?” Rosemerta said with another yawn.

“Fuck,” Rolanda said. “The staff want lunch here tomorrow. I was supposed to owl you this morning because I know you’ve been running low on supplies and you’d have to put the order in today.”

Rosemerta’s eyes snapped wide open. Rolanda looked sheepish. “I’ll help, don’t worry,” she said, pulling her into her arms. “I’m not on duty tomorrow. I’ll go get the supplies.”

“You’d better,” Rosemerta grumbled, but snuggled into Rolanda’s arms with all the security of knowing that she wouldn’t let her down. She never did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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